


all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Established Bechloe, Established Relationship, F/F, Smut, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Beca picks Chloe up from the airport after four days apart. Chloe has made some changes... Beca likes them.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 24
Kudos: 159





	all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this a few months back (read it and you'll figure out when), and decided to hop back in today. Enjoy Beca attempting to top!
> 
> Fic title from Taylor Swift's _Dress_.

It is not simply that Beca doesn’t _like_ time away from Chloe—which, of course, she absolutely does not—more so, it is that she also doesn’t _need_ it. Some couples, married ones especially, probably need their space from one another every now and then, need a little time apart to regroup and decompress by themselves. That rule does not apply to Beca, though; in all of the years she has known her, whether for that initial brief stint as ‘just friends’, then eventually as girlfriends or now, ultimately wives, Beca has never needed time away from Chloe Beale. It is fortunate (and something of a miracle, Beca thinks) that she knows Chloe feels the exact same way, too.

So, admittedly somewhat pathetically, this long weekend without Chloe has been its own particularly cruel brand of torture. However, unable to drop her work commitments, and not wanting both of them to have to miss out on the annual Bellas mini summer vacation, Beca had been insistent that Chloe still go and enjoy the time with the other girls. Begrudgingly, Chloe had eventually agreed, and while it has actually only been four short days, Beca can honestly say she has missed her wife much more than she would ever openly care to admit.

(To anyone but Chloe, anyway; Beca is a total softy around Chloe.)

Undeniably, the days have moved so slowly for Beca that time might as well have been ticking backward, so there is something of an uncharacteristic pep to her step as she makes her way expectantly toward the airport’s arrivals gate, where she stands, fumbling impatiently with her keys held between her fingers, and awaits the familiar sight of her favorite person.

A quick glance down to her phone, to the extensive iMessage thread between she and Chloe where Beca’s last response has finally delivered, tells her that Chloe’s phone is at least off of airplane mode by now, therefore she is likely (hopefully) on solid ground.

Taking into account Chloe’s last message in their thread— _i have a surprise for you!_ —Beca is of course intrigued, but for the most part, she is just excited to see Chloe. She is always excited to see Chloe; it is almost embarrassing at this point. In fact, Beca is even a little jittery as she watches nameless faces begin to filter through the double doors and into the main arrivals area, mind beginning to absently run over the possibilities of what Chloe’s _surprise_ may be.

It is likely another novelty t-shirt, Beca thinks; the kind that Beca will instinctively roll her eyes at upon first glance, but that she will ultimately love all the same, just because it came from Chloe. Or perhaps it is something a little bigger, Beca thinks. Maybe a new tattoo? It would certainly be in keeping with Chloe’s spontaneity, and not the first time she has—

Beca doesn’t even get the chance to finish her thought, not before her jaw slackens and her tired gaze widens in response to the sight of the most familiar person to her, somehow looking so entirely _un_ -familiar now.

There is a look Beca would describe as somewhat bashful painting itself onto Chloe’s soft features as she slowly approaches, evidently taking in the utterly shocked expression on Beca’s face.

There are many, many layers to Chloe Beale; many wild yet intricate factors that make up the incredible, perfectly imperfect person that she is. To reduce her simply to fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes would be unfair, but those _are_ two definite additions, two tell-tale physical descriptors of Chloe as a person. So, for Beca to suddenly be met by the sight of those same mesmerizing eyes now paired with unfamiliar short, _blonde_ hair, it is definitely something of a shock to the system.

Not a _bad_ shock, just...a shock. And it is clear that Chloe can tell.

“You hate it, huh?” she questions almost timidly in place of an actual greeting, her soft chuckle something of a nervous one, almost uncharacteristic for Chloe Beale. As she speaks, Chloe’s hand rises toward her newly restyled hair, nimble fingers coasting along the blunt ends where they fall by her now more visibly defined jawline.

It is almost comical, the fact that it takes Beca a moment to find her voice. It makes sense, though; apparently, like a horny teenager seeing their first pair of boobs in the flesh, all of Beca’s responses have fallen instantly between her legs.

“What? No, I…” Beca begins somewhat dumbly, hand instinctively lifting to delicately touch her fingers to the freshly cut ends of Chloe’s hair. In turn, Chloe’s face tilts slightly into her touch, and Beca isn’t sure which feeling most strongly overpowers the other; the amount of sheer love she is filled with for her favorite human, or the way she is suddenly so intensely turned on by the sight before her. “You changed your hair?”

“I mean, not completely intentionally,” Chloe chuckles quietly, fingers releasing their hold on the handle of her luggage to instead reach out and lace through Beca’s. “You’re sure you don’t hate it?”

The short puff of air through her nose in place of a laugh precedes Beca softly shaking her head, gaze lowering almost automatically to the grin forming on Chloe’s balm covered lips. “No,” she promises, words muffled some by the incoming kiss she has been unashamedly dreaming of for the last four days, “It’s different, but believe me, I definitely do not hate it.”

* * *

As well as regaling Beca with stories from the long weekend vacation—most of it had been documented via social media anyway, and Beca had been keeping up when she could find the time to do so—Chloe explains the stuck gum incident yesterday that ultimately led to her new haircut (the color had simply been Chloe throwing caution to the wind), and Beca chuckles at the vivid mental images Chloe paints. She cannot keep herself, however, each time they pull up smoothly at a red light, from allowing her gaze to drift naturally toward the passenger seat, to the radiant vision of the woman beside her.

It is not simply the haircut to blame for Beca’s staring—she struggles to keep her eyes off of Chloe at the best of times—but it is definitely an added factor. The thought of her fingers raking through the shorter locks, of finally getting her hands on Chloe after four days apart, is a very distracting notion. Beca would feel like a total creep, in fact, if it wasn’t for the darkened gaze she sees shooting back toward her.

“What are you thinking?” Chloe hums, leaning back comfortably into the passenger seat, the thicker tone lacing her voice almost somehow goading Beca on.

“Just that I missed you,” Beca lies. In fact, it is not even a total lie; she really had missed Chloe, and she knows that Chloe had missed her, too. She just opts to hold back the finer details of her rapidly racing thoughts, that’s all.

Chloe’s soft hum repeats as she stretches an arm to settle her palm against Beca’s thigh, tips of her fingers stroking softly through the tight fabric of her black jeans. “That all?”

Beca cannot help but puff out a small chuckle at that, eyes rolling fondly as they move toward the road. “I’m thinking you’re asking me to crash this car,” she quips, unable to ignore the feeling of slender fingers dancing further up her inner thigh.

Chloe only grins somewhat triumphantly, but doesn’t move her hand any higher. Instead, she settles it where it is, pad of her thumb stroking gently in its current spot. It is a soft, tender motion, but Beca knows what is realistically on Chloe’s mind.

After all, it is on hers, too.

* * *

It definitely does not surprise Beca, the fact that they have barely made it through the front door of their apartment before Chloe is immediately pushing her up against it, and Beca’s grip on the handle of Chloe’s luggage loosens instinctively. This was always going to be their entrance into their home; they have never been the best at keeping their hands to themselves, and especially not after following any amount of time apart.

(It really is pathetic, but Beca truly does not care.)

“How much did you miss me?” Chloe questions in something of a husked tone as her lips, parted and so damn inviting, press harshly to Beca’s. The weight of Chloe’s body pushes Beca’s back more firmly against the door, and Beca’s arms instinctively rise to scrape her fingers against Chloe’s scalp, shorter hair tickling the back of her hands. She feels the way Chloe’s lips curve upward against her own in response.

“So fucking much,” Beca murmurs breathlessly in return, legs immediately wrapping around Chloe’s slender waist as she reaches down muscular arms to effectively lift Beca up from the ground. Her words are muffled by the heated, desperate kiss they share as Beca straightens her body to claim the height in their new position. She ducks her head so as not to have to break away. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you the whole time.”

It would seem that the feeling is mutual, considering the way Chloe turns to make her way to the nearest room—the kitchen—with her tongue sliding easily through the part in Beca’s lips to brush hungrily against her own.

With her legs wrapped tightly around Chloe’s middle, and Chloe’s arms steadily holding her up, Beca drops the hold she has on Chloe’s hair to begin fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, and by the time Chloe is able to set her down on the countertop, Beca is able to easily pull the unfastened garment from her body. It falls messily to the floor, the unwanted barrier no longer a thought in either of their minds.

Beca’s shirt comes next, with Chloe easily peeling it away to reveal a navy colored sports bra that Beca really hadn’t put much thought into when getting dressed this morning, but evidently neither of them care. They could both be wearing literal trash bags and they’d still be just as hungry, just as desperate for one another—they are married, they are past the point of meticulously coordinating their most attractive items of underwear by now.

The pent up tension inside of her has been building more and more with each passing day, but it isn’t until Chloe begins to lower naturally to her knees, long fingertips hooking below the waistband of Beca’s jeans, that Beca realizes just how strongly her own fire of passion has begun to burn. It screams inside of her, desperate to burst its way out.

“No,” Beca shakes her head, quickly grasping Chloe’s hands to effectively pull them away. Chloe only pauses to look up at her with a slightly tilted head, before Beca has begun to gently push her backward, until she can climb down from the counter with her hands gripping at Chloe’s hips. Chloe doesn’t stop her, and in fact seems incredibly interested in this sudden turn of events. She allows Beca the upper hand, the power to back her toward the opposite counter, until Beca is twisting Chloe’s body to face away from her own.

“I love it when you take control,” Chloe rasps, and while Beca cannot see her face, she can so clearly picture the smug expression, the way her twinkling eyes have darkened devilishly. Chloe’s hands instinctively grip at the waistband of her own skin-tight leggings in the same motion as Beca plucks at the clasp of her bra, until she can begin to effortlessly slide them down her legs.

Admittedly, it is not the most frequent of occurrences, Beca taking charge. They are both incredibly comfortable with one another, definitely very experimental in their escapades, but Chloe is the naturally dominant one in the bedroom. There is a certain lust that takes over Beca’s eyes as her darkened gaze sweeps over the smooth curves of Chloe’s back with the straps of her bra now out of the way. She studies the dimples in her skin, lowers her fingers to grasp needily at Chloe’s bare waist, and watches as she removes the layers on her bottom half.

“This the kind of thing you’ve been thinking about, baby?” Chloe murmurs, head twisting over her shoulder to cast a glance Beca’s way in time to capture Beca’s lips with her own. Beca only mumbles something unintelligible in return, and welcomes the feeling of Chloe’s fingers wrapping around her hand to move it in one smooth motion to her lower stomach.

Evidently, Chloe struggles to give up _total_ control, and Beca is not complaining. She is not complaining as Chloe tugs her hand between her parted thighs, and Beca gets to feel just how wet their short yet heated make out session has already made her wife, feel the way she is already dripping so deliciously against her fingers.

“God,” Beca murmurs, sucking in a shuddering breath as her fingertips brush for the first time in four days through familiar folds. Chloe responds with an immediate whimper against Beca’s lips, and Beca decides that she wants to really _hear_ the sound.

While her fingers begin to move in a slow, circular motion at first, Beca trails her kiss-swollen lips down the hot skin of Chloe’s neck, teeth nipping gently at the smooth curve of her shoulder. She has traced her entire body so many times before, she knows all of Chloe’s sweet spots. Beca feels the way Chloe’s hips rock further into her touch, and takes it as instruction to pick up the pace of her movements.

“Jesus, Bec,” Chloe whimpers, still a little too quietly for Beca’s liking, as Beca’s hand dips to coast the tips of her fingers over the building heat gathering between Chloe’s legs. Experimentally, maybe even kind of teasingly, in fact, she slips two fingers partway into Chloe’s heat, but moves them back out to continue rubbing fast, tight circles against her clit. They move so effortlessly, slide so easily through her folds with the thick coating of arousal, it causes Beca’s own thighs to clench in reaction.

Knee pushing between Chloe’s legs to nudge them further apart, Beca pauses to a desperate whine from Chloe in response, and basks in the smug feeling of eliciting such a reaction from her already.

Of course, Chloe’s response only makes Beca want to touch her more, want to draw as many sounds and as much verbal evidence of her pleasured feelings as she can, so the break in contact is minimal as she swings her arm around to push between Chloe’s legs from behind, two fingers sinking without warning into Chloe’s dripping cunt. It pulls the immediate moan from the back of her throat that Beca had been hoping for, and Beca finds herself all but drooling as her darkened gaze takes in the sight of Chloe’s body arching forward, hands instinctively gripping onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Just like that,” Chloe whimpers as Beca pulls her fingers partially out, before sinking them deeply inside once again, the tips curling to brush against pulsing walls. Her free hand grasps at Chloe’s waist momentarily, steadying her as her fingers find their rhythm, but it takes only a beat for her to drop her grip and instead lift her hand toward Chloe’s head, where Beca can scrape her fingers through short, blonde locks. It is instinct for her to pull just a little bit as she pushes Chloe’s head forward, until her upper body is leaning onto the counter, hips rocking with the new, faster rhythm of Beca’s fingers.

“Holy fuck,” Beca murmurs, hungry gaze drinking in the sight before her; the sight of Chloe riding her fingers, Beca’s hand clenching onto the back of her hair. Chloe’s thighs are visibly trembling, and Beca cannot resist the urge to have her mouth on her, no matter how inviting the loud, pleasured sounds spilling from Chloe’s lips may be.

Using the grip she has on her hair, Beca tugs Chloe upward again, until Chloe is instinctively turning her head to desperately seek out Beca’s lips over her shoulder. The kiss is messy and uncalculated, but Beca doesn’t care. She revels in the feeling of Chloe moaning against her mouth, the delicious sound of her fingers pumping in and out of her, and knows that she wants to pull more of those reactions.

Fingers loosening their grasp on Chloe’s hair, Beca drops her hand between Chloe and the counter, until four fingers are pushing tight circles into her now neglected clit, the other hand still moving to pump her fingers into her cunt with a fast rhythm. Chloe curses against her lips as she releases one hand from the counter to instead lift behind her other shoulder, where she can grip tightly onto the back of Beca’s hair, and Beca hisses at the dull, welcomed pain.

Chloe comes with weakened legs and parted lips, strangled moaning sounds spilling against Beca’s mouth, and Beca finds herself whimpering at the very sensation. She only slows the movement of her hands when it becomes clear that Chloe physically cannot handle any more, and Beca is very much there to steady her as Chloe turns her body to wind long arms around Beca’s neck. She never breaks the kiss, and in fact only pushes her lips more harshly to Beca’s, a sensation Beca very wholly welcomes.

Although Beca wants to say something smug, something that conveys just how proud she is to have caused Chloe to come undone right there against their kitchen counter with only her hands, she finds that she is too enamored by the woman in her arms, by the way Chloe clings so desperately onto her, so Beca only whimpers into the kiss.

“God,” Chloe echoes her earlier sentiments, fingers holding tightly onto the back of Beca’s hair to keep her as close as possible as she finally pulls away from her swollen lips. She moves only enough to rest her forehead, sticky and warm from the last little while, to Beca’s, and Beca finally gets a moment to allow the proud smile fighting its way forward to tug at the corners of her lips. Her fingers grasp at Chloe’s bare hips, but move to splay against the small of her back, and she melts beneath the breathy giggle Chloe finally lets out.

“Good?” Beca chuckles quietly in return, fingertips brushing against the warm, smooth skin beneath them. She can feel the way Chloe’s body continues to gently shake, and knows she doesn’t even need to ask for validation—Chloe’s reactions gave her that already—but she cannot help but crave it anyway.

“So good,” Chloe murmurs, face tilting to push a small, lazy peck to Beca’s lips, before her forehead is resting against her own again. She takes a moment to properly catch her breath, for her heaving chest to begin to move at a more normal pace. “I knew exactly what you were thinking in the car,” she mumbles, previously closed lids fluttering open to lock her gaze with Beca’s. Beca only smirks triumphantly in response, and Chloe’s expression naturally mirrors it. “I can’t believe you didn’t even get me to the bedroom first.”

Beca’s small chuckle precedes one hand rising from Chloe’s back to instead push a fallen wave of blonde hair behind her ear. As always, the way Chloe’s face tilts into her touch causes her heart to skip a beat. “In my defense, you were the one that brought me in here,” she teases, easily accepting the next peck Chloe drops to her lips.

“Mm,” Chloe hums, breathing finally regulating again. She does not seem to disagree. “Can I tell you a secret?” She pauses then, and Beca can literally _see_ the way her bright eyes darken to something almost mischievous, something that tells Beca they are absolutely not done here. Beca subtly arches a brow, silently urging her to go on. “This is exactly what I was thinking about, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thank you for reading! [This is me](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com)!


End file.
